The Patsy
by Linda J
Summary: Why does Victor Creed from Origins seem so different from Sabretooth from X1 when they are supposed to be the same man? My explanation, they're not!
1. Chapter 1

THE PASTY

by Linda J.

DISCLAIMER: THIS STORY IS FOR FUN AND NOT FOR PROFIT. ALL CHARACTERS BELONG TO MARVEL AND FOX. I DID NOT ASK FOR PERMISSION TO USE THEM, BUT I DO PROMISE TO PUT THEM BACK WHEN I'M DONE PLAYING WITH THEM.

RATING: R FOR VIOLENCE, ADULT CONTENT, AND LANGUAGE

UNIVERSE: MOVIEVERSE PRE-X1

SUMMERY: MY EXPLANATION OF WHY THE VICTOR CREED FROM THE WOLVERINE:ORIGINS MOVIE AND SABRETOOTH FROM X1 SEEM SO DIFFERENT WHEN THEY ARE SUPPOSED TO BE THE SAME MAN.

TAKES PLACE AROUND 10 YEARS AFTER WOLVERINE ESCAPED AND LOST HIS MEMORIES.

STRYKER AND CREED NOW WORK TOGETHER FOR THE "FACULTY," BUT CREED'S BLOOD LUST IS GETTING OUT OF HAND AND SOMETHING MUST BE DONE TO PROTECT THE FACULTY'S SECRET OPERATIONS.

FEEDBACK: YES PLEASE!

CHAPTER 1

The long shadows crept slowly along the office walls, giving away the time of day as the sun sat in the summer sky. Stryker had spent yet another day at his obsession; another day trying to find a way to control the ever growing mutant problem that faced the world. But once again, the attempt to control these monsters seemed impossible. Wolverine proved that reducing a mutant to his most animal instincts, didn't automatically make a mutant dumb, it only made him angry; and angry animals always ran out of control.

The Col. looked down at the latest newspaper headline, telling the readers about yet another prostitute found in an alley, naked and ripped to shreds. It was now clear the feral had become overly confident; which meant he was starting to get sloppy. Creed was now killing humans, not just mutants any more.

Stryker suddenly looked up and saw Victor Creed standing in the doorway of his office. He could feel the his temples begin to pound as he ordered the mutant inside, "come in Captain; close the door behind you."

Creed quickly noticed the newspaper on Stryker's desk and mocked a fearful look as he walked inside, closing the door behind him. "_Oo, I'm in trouble_ _now_!"

"Shut up!" the Col. snapped as he picked up the paper and threw it at Creed. "What were you thinking? No one cares when a mutant whore is killed, but when a human, whore or not, is killed, especially by a mutant, people get pissed! People start demanding for arrests!"

Vic didn't even bother to catch the paper as it hit him on the arm, as he lazily leaned back on the wall, arms folded over his chest, and legs crossed as he looked about the room and casually shrugged his shoulders. "Who said I was thinking?"

If Stryker thought he could kill this bastard right here and now he would have, and Victor knew that was exactly what the man was thinking. The fact that both knew this was impossible pleased Victor very, very much.

"You **do** know they found the DNA you left behind this time?" Stryker coolly asked him, wondering if Vic even cared.

For just a quick moment, Creed's face appeared concerned, but he quickly covered up his unease. "So? Fix it."

"I beg your pardon?" Stryker couldn't believe his subordinate's gaul.

Creed then stood erect and took a few steps to the Col's desk. "Oh I see; only you and OJ can get away with murder. Is that it?"

For a moment or two, he and Stryker glared hatefully at one another. Then, Stryker reached in his desk drawer and pulled out an apparent mug shot of another feral looking mutant. "You want me to _fix it,_ huh? Well this is how I'm going to _fix it_."

Creed looked at the 3x5 picture of his fellow mutant and smirked, "let me guess...never modeled for GQ."

"Once again, your knack for stating the obvious is truly astonishing, Captain," Stryker quipped sarcastically.

"This is Thomas Catarski; you and him have quite a bit in common. Long claws, good fighting skills, and he appears to have a taste for blood as well."

The Col's remark tweaked Creed's curiosity, "He does now?"

"About two years ago, Catarski was charged with killing another mutant; fully castrated the little shit with his bare claws, then choked him to death by shoving his own dick down his throat. But, just as we discussed, mutant on mutant crime is meaningless, especially when the dead mutant is a child molester. So, with the help of a good lawyer, the judge called it a miss-trial and Catarski walked."

"Vicious...sadistic..." Creed slyly smiled, nodding his head and studying the features of this fellow feral. "A little bit creative too. I think I'm going to like this guy."

"That's nice to know, because he's your fall guy. You're going to bring him back here. Then you're going to give him some of your DNA; after that, the boys down stairs will erase _his_ memories and fill his head with some of _yours_."

Creed found himself reeling just a little upon hearing the plans, "What was that?"

"Do I need to draw you a picture in crayon?" Stryker jeered as he handed him the picture, along with a plane ticket to Omaha and car reservations.

"So what becomes of me, after all this is done?" Vic tried hard not to sound concerned.

"Once this mutant has your identity, you'll be shipped off to the faculty's location near the Russian border. Then we put the fake Creed out on the street, tell the locals where to find him and just like that, the 'Alley Cat Murders,' are solved."

Suddenly Stryker's idea was making good sense, even if being shipped over seas really sucked, but, what the hell. New scenery was always nice. "We got a location on this guy?"

"He's in Omaha right now; works at the city zoo. The guy is over 7ft tall, so spotting him won't be a problem, but getting him back here probably will," Stryker cautiously warned Creed, only to have the feral arrogantly brush it all off without a care.

"What makes this one any tougher than what I've dealt with before?"

"He doesn't have the hyper-healing factor that you do," Stryker once again tried warned, "but he's no cream puff Creed. Keep that in mind."


	2. Chapter 2

CHAPTER 2

The flight attendant wasn't sure what it was about this man that enticed her so. He _was_ handsome, but she had seen hundreds of handsome men in her years of flying the friendly skies. No, there was something truly alluring about him; something positively animalistic that made her heart pound every time she walked passed him. What was embarrassing, is that it appeared he knew exactly what she was going through by the way he would smoothly grin at her every time he looked her way.

Victor never thought red-eye flights were much fun; especially when they were heading somewhere as unexciting as Omaha Nebraska. He tried his damnedest to recall if he had ever been to the cow town, stuck inside a oversized cornfield that passed itself for a state before, but all that concentrating only gave him a slight headache. Even being the only one in first class didn't help make the trip any more enjoyable, though he couldn't help notice his flight attendant was catering to his every need.

He finally gave up on trying to recall if he had ever been to Omaha before; if he had, obviously it didn't impress him very much. He pulled out the picture of this, Thomas Catarski, and studied his prey. Tom wasn't the ugliest thing Vic had ever seen, but he sure came in a close second. A caveman's forehead and pure black eyes, deeply inset and hidden behind yellow eyebrows that were thick enough to braid. The mutant appeared to be in his early to mid twenties, but Vic knew that mutants often didn't look their actual age, and his blond shaggy hair was just long enough to touch the edge of his collar. Vic noticed how pale the mutant's skin was, and suspected this meant he seldom or never went out into the daylight.

Vic called for the flight attendant and demanded more Champaign and peanuts, which of course she quickly complied. The moment she came near him, he noticed her hand was trembling just slightly and picked up the scent of her pheromones raging out of control. Maybe this flight would prove interesting after all.

Vic made a point to ever so casually, brush his hand against her leg as she stood close to his seat causing her to spill the Champaign. When she turned to get a towel from her cart, to wipe Vic's table, he closely eyed her nicely shaped backside and smiled.

He glanced down at Tom's picture once more, 'well it _does _appear this muttie only comes out at night,' Vic thought to himself before putting the picture back into his coat pocket.

'So...it's safe to say I've got all the time I need.'

He then invited his flight attendant to sit next to him, and even though it was against the rules, she was happy to do so.

"So tell me, Mr. Creed, are you going to Omaha for business or pleasure?" she smiled coyly and slid in next to him.

He returned the smile, "Business, but...I can always find time for a little pleasure."

xxx

Tom's life had been full of ups and downs. His parents seemed to handle the whole, "your son is a mutant," talk from the doctor as well as can be expected, considering the stories Tom had heard of how other parents took the news.

But his high school didn't, especially his coach, who actually broke down and cried when it became obvious they couldn't hide Tom's uniqueness any more. After the state board forced his principal to return ALL the track and field trophies Tom had won for the school, along with the State and Tri-State football championship trophies the school had won with Tom as their quarterback, Tom went from being THE school hero, to a complete zero. Even though he was only one semester from graduating, Tom dropped out, and never looked back with regret.

He went to work on his father's ranch, and did pretty well for himself so long as no one got on his bad side. He had a knack of just knowing what was wrong with the sickly animals, and what needed to be done to make them well. But it seemed that every time he went into town, he ended up in trouble and one night the trouble just went too far. A drunken brawl, broken glass, switchblades and a puddle of blood. Once again Tom ran away from his problem, and never looked back with regret.

After that, he drifted from state to state, trying his hand at several menial jobs with little love for anything he tried. That is until he wound up in Omaha and a life-long friend of the family, handed a job at the city zoo.

He finally found a job he truly enjoyed, but there was still the problem of finding somewhere to live. Little did his employers know, Tom had found the old animal infirmary which was unground and now used for storage. It wasn't very roomy, but it had electricity, running water, and it was well away from everyone. It was nicely hidden away, behind a door in the Big Cat Exhibit, and the only way to get to it was to go down a two story elevator shaft that was currently out of service. What started out to be only temporary, had gradually turned his home sweet home.

At night, when everyone had left, Tom had been slowly moving more and more stuff into his "crib."

A futon couch which would fold out into a bed, though he always slept on the floor because his long legs would hang over the edge; a 20" plasma TV, which replaced the 50" LCDTV he no longer had. The TV was siting on top of a makeshift stand made from four cylinder blocks and a couple of wooden planks.

Connected to the plasma TV, was also an Xbox, and a PS2 and his collection of a dozen or so video games were scattered all around the floor.

He used to have Wii, which is the reason why he no longer owned a 50" LCDTV. After the, "double-over-time-slam-dunk-that-won-the-game," incident, Tom vowed he would never play a Wii again, unless he could stand at least 12 feet away from the TV screen.

Inside his little home, he paid homage to the North American Indian culture, something he greatly admired, with several wall hangings, pictures, dream catchers, beads, but especially several wood cravings of animals like wolves, eagles, bears, deer and other animals from every continent. Each one he made himself, using his talons as cutting and carving tools. He displayed them along the ledges, and countertops, along all the floor boards; they were every where and of every size; including one _very_ large wooden sculpture with the face of an Indian warrior carved into a huge piece of an oak tree trunk that Tom had help cut down last fall. It took up a lot of space, but it was his 'Mona Lisa' so to speak.

He didn't own a watch or even a clock; he just had a way of always knowing what time it was, like now for instance. It wasn't time for him to go to work, but he had been awake since six that morning and had played all the video games he wanted to that day already. He went up top and checked the weather outside. He was very pleased to see thunder clouds forming in the sky; he sniffed the air, there was rain in the distance, and coming this way.

The sun had never been very gentle on his fair skin or sensitive eyes, and the older he got, the less gentle the sun became; so clouds building up around the horizon always made him smile. He went back to his pad, packed his igloo lunch box, put on his white Henry Doorly, (Omaha) Zoo baseball cap, his very dark sunglasses and headed up the shaft.


	3. Chapter 3

CHAPTER 3

They had landed in Omaha on time, and quickly made it to the hotel. The Presidential Suite, caviar and champagne sent up by room service, and a priority delivery of adult toys, made for a day of erotic fun for both Vic and Gloria, though Vic could care less about the human's name. Even though he normally enjoyed the scent, the feel and taste of young, tender flesh, every now and then, he took advantage of the experience an older woman offered in bed. But, after a few hours, Vic grew tired of her and as she reached yet another stupendous orgasm, he slashed her throat with one quick blow with his claws and as he found his own climax, he watched her die in horror and shock, unable to speak or even scream now that her vocal chords were gone and blood poured onto the clean white sheets.

xxx

By now, the storm clouds were moving in and had begun to sprinkle a bit as Tom sat quietly perched high in his favorite tree, watching the crowds mill along the trails, going from one animal exhibit to the next. He took a sip of his Mountain Dew and bit into his apple. There was still more than an hour before closing, which was when he would actually begin work. Cleaning up after the humans and animals; seeing the animals had plenty of food, clean water and a clean dry place to sleep. For now, he was responsible for the Orangoutang Section, though secretly he would have loved to have the Penguin Dome. He wasn't really sure why he didn't like the orange apes, except they reminded him too much of humans. But, at least these dirty, smelly monkeys were safe behind bars. Not like those dirty smelly monkeys who were running the world for the moment.

As he took another sip, for whatever reason, the rants of a fellow mutant came to his mind. He had attended a secret rally for mutants who were fed up with the humans and sat quietly in the crowd as a man of great composure and style spoke of mutants taking their rightful place in this world.

He tried to recall this radical mutants name; it went something along the lines of Mag...nee...tic...o..? Mag...netic...o...? Mag...mag...nee...to...?

Oh well, Mag..."something" Tom was sure of anyway. He couldn't remember all the details to this brilliant and charismatic genius' speech, but he did recall they made him feel significant, they made him feel empowered. But this...this Mags guy, was looking for mutants, mostly strong and capable ones to join his army, and Tom wasn't the kind to join _anyone's_ "army."

Then suddenly Tom noticed a very, faint odor of human blood and wondered if one of the trainers had been attacked. At first, the odor was strong and it bothered him to pick up the scent without knowing who or where it was coming from. He looked down from his perch at the crowd closely, but saw nothing out of the ordinary. Gradually then scent faded, but not entirely.

This certainly called for some investigating. He jumped down from his perch, and started sniffing the air, hunting for clues. But, instead of solving the mystery, Tom noticed one of the humans agitating one of the Orangoutangs. Even though he didn't care much for the monkeys, he couldn't stand seeing them or any animal teased. The sight infuriated him and instantly he walked over to confront the boy.

"You there," he growled as he began to walk over to the exhibit. The boy turned around and saw the seven ft giant storming his way and turned white with fear. But, just as Tom as about to have a "talk" with the kid, the child's mother stepped in between him and the boy.

"You BETTER step back mutie! You can't scare my boy like that!" the woman began yell and shout for security and in just a matter of moments, Shelly, a short, pear shaped woman, wearing a security guard uniform came to the call.

"Why does this zoo hire monsters like that? we come here all the time, and we never have problems, until now! I should sue this zoo for hiring this freak!" she raged on and on to Shelly, as Tom stood there seething and the boy picked his nose.

Shelly called for Doug her partner, and once he arrived, she and Tom went off to an employees only area, letting the woman assume she was taking Tom off to see the head supervisor. It was an odd sight to see such a large and fearsome man being led away by such a short young lady. However instead of being dragged in front of the great and mighty wizard of Ooz, Shelly had brought Tom to the employees lounge to watch a little TV.

Shelly was the closet thing Tom to a girlfriend, or so he liked to think of her as the closet thing to a girlfriend. The fact that she was a female, the fact that she always made a point to say "hi," whenever she saw him and the fact that she would sat down next to him once in a while was all encouragement he needed to call her his girlfriend.

Now...if he could only get the nerve to ask her out. He cleared his throat, and thought about his pitch, when Shelly began to kindly lecture him.

"I know how much you love these animals here, Tom," she looked up at him and smiled. "But, it's not up to you to protect them. If a guest is getting wild, we spot it and we'll eject them from the zoo. That's MY job, not yours."

"So..." Tom's eyes grew even darker, if that was possible.

"You think I'm NOT good enough to do your job?"

As Tom sat on the bench, Shelly stood up to face him, eye to eye. "If you want my job, then go apply for it. If you get it, then you can kick all the shit heads out, I don't care! But for now it's MY job to see that the people who come here, mind themselves and it's MY job to keep our animals safe. Got that?"

Tom was looking straight into her angry brownish green eyes and his heart melted. He always had a thing for strong women. "Yes, boss."

"That's better," Shelly sat back down and resumed watching TV while Tom began to think about the scent of blood he had picked up earlier.

"Hey Shell, was anybody attacked today?"

She turned to look at him again with a puzzled look on her face, "No; why would you ask that?"

Tom looked back to the TV, but had a puzzled look on his face too, "It's nothing I guess. I just thought I noticed a really strong scent of blood earlier. So, am I still in time out?"

Shelly just smiled, never taking her eyes off the TV. "Yes Tom, you're still in time out."

For a minute or so, Tom sat there sulking, not quite sure if Shelly was serious or not. "Well...for how long?"

Shelly just rolled her eyes, "For as long as it takes for you to say you'll go out with me after you get done tonight."

Tom's heart skipped a beat, "Did you just ask me out?"

Shelly's face turned a light shade of red, "I'm sorry, I...thought, well I guess I read the signals wrong. I..I didn't..."

Tom nearly jumped out of his seat, "No! I, I mean yes! I'm just shocked that you'd...well um, me...ask...a-a-ah ask me...out!"

Shelly started to giggle a little, watching her favorite felinoid fumble over his words so badly. Tom was unintentionally leering over Shelly, as someone else walked in to get a soda from the machine. The older man just gave them a strange look and went about his business.

"Well why wouldn't I ask you out Tom?" Shelly kindly asked.

Tom's face just dropped a little, "Look at me, I'm uglier than sin. I know I am and don't tell me I'm not."

Shelly rolled her eyes, "Ugly? What's so ugly about you?"

Tom's first reaction was to point to his teeth. "These for one. Who wants to kiss a mouth full of spikes?"

Shelly snickered a little. "Well if you're able to keep yourself from biting your own lips all the time, surely you can kiss someone without making them bleed."

Tom gave her a hopeful smile, "You want to find out?"

Shelly grinned back, "Maybe tonight...?"

"So...' Shelly spoke softly. "What's your answer?"

Tom tried to regain his composure and coolness. "Uh...sure. I'll go out with you...tonight."

Shelly smiled back, "great! Why don't you get started on you work early so we can make it out of here before the steakhouse closes?"

Tom eagerly agreed and left the lounge grinning like the Cheshire cat. He walked outside just as the sky opened up and started to pour rain; but Tom went to work right anyway, working around the humans as they scurried out of the zoo. Even as the rain soaked his clothes even his cap to the point that his hair was getting drenched, Tom just kept thinking about how lucky he was to have such a sweet girl to ask him out. Everything was going really good for him and he knew it. So naturally, he couldn't help but feel that something disastrous was right around the corner.


	4. Chapter 4

CHAPTER 4

Even though Tom was in a hurry to get his job done, he made a point to do everything right. Not even the possibility of getting laid soon was enough to make Tom neglect his work, much less his give those animals in his care inferior care. Once or twice he was certain he picked up the scent of human blood again, but every time, he would find some excuse to blame it on something rational, or chose to ignore it entirely.

Maybe a guest had slipped and fell, hitting an artery on a sharp rock; or maybe one of the trainers did get nipped by a feisty animal but chose not to report it. Surely it wasn't anything serious; yet the harder he tried to ignore the scent, the more it irritated him, mostly because the rain should have washed the scent away. It was a quandary to be sure.

Eventually he gave in, and began hunting for the source. The rain made it difficult to track the scent, but his persistence paid off. What was mind boggling however was the trail was leading him straight to the same elevator shaft he used to get to the abandoned veterinary section. As he approached the shaft, he wondered if an adventurous guest had gone exploring in the restricted area and had fallen down the shaft. He was about to leap down the shaft, when he detected the scent of another mutant as well. He hesitated for a moment, then decided the only way to find out what the hell was going on was to charge in like a raging bull.

He landed on his feet, and immediately went looking for the blood. His nose led him straight to a large white sheet crumpled up in the middle of the floor. The sheet was soaked with what he was certain was a human female's blood. He didn't know what to think of it, but he was positive it couldn't be good. Without thinking he picked the sheet up, getting his finger prints all over it. He paused and looked around; he knew he was sensing another mutant in the area and began sniffing the air looking for the mutant's location.

Instead of letting Tom's nose direct him however, Vic started to softly chuckle as he came out from the shadows. "Well now, I guess curiosity _did_ kill the cat, huh _Vic_."

The stranger's remark only confused Tom all the more, "...ah, th-that's not my name, and where the hell did _this_ come from?"

Vic took another step closer, "Tisk, tisk, you mean you spend a whole day fucking a grade A piece of ass like Gloria, then don't even have the decency to remember you killed her? You should be ashamed of yourself ..._Vic_."

Tom's heart skipped a beat, and he began to sweat. "You got the wrong guy! _My_ name ain't **Vic**!"

"Maybe not right this moment but..." Creed only smiled wildly as his claws extended to their fullest length, "...you'll have the honor soon enough."

Right then, Creed leapt toward Tom, only to discover Tom's reach was longer than he realized, not to mention how quick this fellow feral's reflexes were. With one quick swipe, Tom caught Creed's face and throat and much to Creed's surprise, blood gushed from his own jugular. Creed landed to his feet but staggering, with a stunned look on his face as he recalled Stryker's warning not to underestimate this mutant.

Tom stood there for a moment, expecting to see this invader die a quick death, but nearly did a double take when he saw the wounds heal before his eyes. Creed took advantage of the moment and lunged at him again, only to have Tom catch him and toss him straight up the shaft and out onto the ground floor. Creed hit the ground rolling, _'Why didn't Stryker tell me this son of a bitch could throw me like a doll?'_

Just as he stopped rolling, Tom was leaping out of the shaft and coming after him. Creed was getting mad enough to see red. He wasn't supposed to be the prey, dammit! "You're really starting to piss me off mutie!"

"I'm pissing you off?" Tom growled, and kicked Creed dead in the mouth with his steel toe boot as he tried to stand. "_Mutie_!"

Creed hit the ground again, but this time he lay motionless on his side as Catarski grabbed a steel pipe and headed toward him once more. Then, just as Tom came close enough to strike Creed in the head, Vic reached out and caught Tom's leg and pull it out from under him, knocking him down to the ground.

Creed took advantage of the moment and pounced on Tom who was now on the ground himself. Vic really should have gone ahead and stuck Tom with the needle, he really should have put this tom-cat to sleep. But instead, he straddled Tom's torso and began pelting the felinoid's face with his fists.

"You know..." *punch* "....most muties..." *smack* "...I come after..." "pop* "...have the sense..." *crunch* '...to run!" *clobber* "But you..." *pow* "...had to show off!" *thunk*

But before Creed knew it, Tom was trying to dig his talons into his chest. "Bet you stop talkin' after I tear yer heart out of yer chest!"

Finally, Creed was done playing and reached in his pocket for the syringe. He was about to stick in Tom's own chest, only to find out that Tom's reflexes were lightening fast. In a flash the syringe went flying across the room.

'At least I got the bastard's hands are out of my chest!' Creed thought to himself as he dove for the syringe. Just as he grabbed the syringe however, Tom had him by the ankle and was pulling him back. Creed wriggled around so that he wasn't on his stomach any more. He sat up and grabbed Tom by the head of his hair and yanked his body forward and sideways, then thrust the needle into Tom's shoulder. Tom's eye fluttered as he tried his best to remain conscious, but the drug went to work quickly and Tom helplessly blacked out.

Vic kicked Tom's body away from him as he struggled to his feet, chuckling as he rose. "Well mutie, you sure as hell can scrap, I'll give you that. Humph, maybe you'll make a fair Creed after all."

Creed got Tom's body out of the zoo without a hitch of course, leaving Shelly to wonder if Tom had stood her up. He called the base for a pick up and was soon taking an unconscious Tom back to the faculty's lab. When he arrived at the lab however, he was disgusted to see Dr. Cornelius and from the look on the stubby, red-bearded man's face, the feeling was mutual. Tom had been placed on a gurney and was being rolled down the hall when Dr. Cornelius walked up with a clipboard, "so..."

He looked down at the sleeping feral with contempt, "_This_ is the new Creed?"

Vic took great offense to the Dr's remark. "He's a patsy Cornelius, got that! You should already know, there will _never_ be another Creed."


	5. Chapter 5

CHAPTER 5

There was really little need for Vic to be in the lab, except for the fact that he just had to see the creation of the faux Creed. He stood back, leaning over the shoulder of a nervous technician, asking question and after question.

"So, just what are you doing here?" Vic tried to pretend he knew nothing of the procedure he had seen a hundred times.

"We've already given him your DNA, and it won't be long before it starts to bond with his own. Now we're erasing his memory," the technician replied dryly.

Vic nodded, "ah..."

"So, how much are you guys erasing?" Vic persisted in his inquiries.

The technician's voice seemed to turn almost sympathetic, "Stryker insisted we wipe this guy clean. By the time we're done...he'll be lucky if he remembers how to wipe his ass."

Vic continued his subtle interrogation of the technician. "Then what will you guys put in, after he's wiped clean?"

"Oh just some generic type memories," the technician continued.

"Cornelius decided to give him some memories of an alcoholic father and a insensitive mother. If he's going to be a killer, then we need him to have some very bad memories of a dysfunctional family, but not so bad that his lawyers can declare insanity."

Vic paused for a moment before leaning in closely, "What..._else_ are you putting in him?"

The tech turned to give Vic a coy look, "Are you asking about those memories of yours that are getting dropped into his head?

Vic grinned and nodded, "ah-huh,"

The tech turned his attention back to panel, "Well Stryker said we didn't need to give him too much. Just a few war memories and of course..."

The tech lowered his voice in mockery, "...the memories of killing all those women. We also created some false memories of killing children, even babies and old folks just to convince this bastard he's really a monster, but...that's about it."

Vic ran his tongue over his long sharp fangs, "Any memories of the people from my past? Like...oh, Jimmy?"

The tech merely shook his head, "Jimmy who?"

Vic felt a bitter-sweet feeling come over his heart, "Yeah, I guess you wouldn't know about him. Just as well I guess."

Another moment or so passed before Vic asked another question. "So once he becomes..._me_, what does Stryker plan to do with him?"

By now, Cornelius had walked up and was listening in, and for whatever reason, found it his responsibility to answer. "After the mutant is conditioned to Stryker's specifications, he will be released into the population and the authorities will be informed where to find him."

Vic mocked a pouting look, "what sport is there in just telling the cops where to find him?"

Cornelius huffed in disgust and slightly rolled his eyes, "The faculty isn't interested in 'sport' Creed, we are interested in getting results."

The Dr. continued to glare at Creed, who only took his words as a kind of challenge. Vic smiled, acting to accept Cornelius' explanation. "So once he's released, will he act like me too?"

"We erase memories, not personalities," Cornelius groaned. "Although, at first, he'll be too confused to even think _how_ to act, but...over time, his basic nature will return to him."

Vic was now looking a little serious, "So will he get my healing factor?"

"Hell no! We made a point to prevent that strand of DNA from getting into his system," Cornelius nearly gasped at the thought.

"The last thing the world needs, is some 7ft mutant cat-man who is damn near impossible to kill!"

A positively evil grin covered Creed's face as he softly snickered, "yeah, that _would_ be the last thing this world needs."


	6. Chapter 6

CHAPTER 6

The man woke up to the sound of a ringing phone but to the man's extremely sensitive ears it was like waking up in the middle of a great clanging bell. He opened his eyes and found himself in a shit-hole of a hotel room; the smell of the last resident still lingering on the bed sheets. He found the phone and picked it up, "Hello?"

He heard a man's voice he did not recognize on the other end, "Run! Run for your fucking life!" *click*

He scratched his pounding head, as he tried to explain this blank feeling he had. 'What the hell's going on?'

Then suddenly the man could smell several man and women surrounding his door. He stood up and looked for a quick exit.

BAM! BAM! BAM! "Open up, it's the police!"

Now the phone call made sense. He rushed to the only window, and saw he was nearly five stories high. He no sooner turned around when the police had kicked in the door and were rushing in. Those who got to him first tried grabbing him and throwing him down, but he only pushed them off of him. This of course was taken as aggression, and they opened fire. He felt the bullets tear into his flesh and as he hit the floor, for a moment he accepted his own death; but then something incredible happened. The bullets started to fall out on their own, and his wounds were instantly healed! He say up just as shocked as the police, but also very much encouraged by this situation.

He stood proudly to his feet and began to fling the police that stood in his way around the room, now ignoring the spray of bullets, as he made his way out the door. He realized that even though he was apparently invincible, there was no point waiting for reinforcements to show up. He ran down several streets, hoping that he lost the cops and ended up going into a dark and dank bar that looked to be the kind of place you would find many criminal types. He sat at the bar and ordered a beer. When the bar tender asked for the money he reached in his pocket and found nothing but a note.

"No money, no service!" the bartender yelled as he grabbed the beer away, and pointed to the door.

"I got this, Rob," said a lovely blond haired woman who was walking across the bar and taking a seat next to the man.

"You look like you could really use a beer," she said sympathetically as she took a sip of her own beer. He blankly nodded his head and looked down to read the note in his hand.

//From one Vic to another, enjoy immortality.//

He looked up and stared into the mirror behind the bar. His head was swimming in a pool of confusion and uncertainty.

"Name's Mystique," the woman held out her hand to shake his.

"What's yours?"

For a moment he looked down at her, licking his lips and shaking his head just a bit.

"Vic," he finally admitted as he gulped down his beer. But even hearing the name aloud still didn't ring true.

"Well Vic, what do you say about getting out of here and going somewhere more private?" she spoke seductively.

"I...I don't think that would be a good idea," he dropped his head in shame as "memories" of dead naked women filled his brain.

"Oh," Mystique pulled away to give the felinoid some space.

"It just seemed you needed someone to talk to."

His eyes filled with despair, "I do; God I really do! It's just I, I feel like don't know up from down right now! Like I'm not even who I'm supposed to be. I know that sounds crazy, maybe I am crazy. I must be."

As he tried to gather his thoughts she made a quiet phone call. When she returned she ordered them another beer and took her seat.

"I really do appreciate this, Mystique. I woke up a little while ago, and..." he tried to explain what he could not even understand himself.

"I woke up and my whole fuckin life don't make sense. I feel like there's someone else inside my head. I dunno, I just wish I could remember more about, about _me..._that's all.

Mystique spoke in a gentle, almost motherly voice, "There's someone I'd like you to meet; I think he could really help you with this...identity crisis your in."

The felinoid's dark eyes seemed hopeful, "You think he could help me?"

Mystique smiled and patted him gently on the back, "He's helped dozens of people like us, and he wants to help all mutant kind. But he needs help, he can't do it all alone."

He nodded his head staring into his beer. "I see; well, how do I meet this guy?"

Mystique smiled, very pleased by his response. "He'll be here in a few minutes. But try not to talk so much, OK. He really isn't into lengthy conversations."

xxx

Creed and Stryker were already in the air, heading to Germany, when he got the call. Even though Stryker tried to keep the call private, Creed could over hear every word being said. He chuckled to himself as he faintly heard Cornelius on the other end, having a conniption.

"I thought we agreed that Catarski was NOT to get any of Creed's healing factor abilities!" Stryker flew into a rage.

"Well obviously _someone_ in the lab screwed up!"

"That doesn't make sense. Why would he..."

"I should have been informed of this when it happened!"

"Alright. Well, the cat's out of the bag now so to speak."

"No, there's no point in that. There's absolutely NO way they can ever trace him back to the faculty; that's what matters."

"In fact...having the son of a bitch on the loose, may work to our advantage."

When Stryker returned to his seat Creed pretended to have heard nothing. "Call from your wife?"

Stryker gave no answer right away however, but just stared out of the window thinking to himself.

"So, you couldn't leave this alone huh?" he finally spoke up, still looking out at the clouds underneath them.

"Leave what alone?" Creed sounded pure as the driven snow.

Stryker then turned and glared at him, "you know perfectly, fucking well what I'm talking about. You were seen leaving the lab last night when everyone else had left. What did you do, Creed? Give the bastard some more of your DNA just so he'd have the healing factor too?"

For a moment, Creed just continued to look at Stryker with no intention to respond. He just sat there with a smug, contemptuous grin.

"Well go ahead and be proud of your little creation for now, Creed," Stryker warned.

"But mark my words, there will come a day when you'll have to personally contend with him."

Creed rolled his eyes a bit and went to staring out his own window; 'I'm counting on it.'

xxx

"My dear young man, my name is Magneto," the suave gentlemen proudly announced as he walked up to him and Mystique; then suggested they all go to a booth located in the back of the bar. Another man had come along too. A short, stubby green man with an obvious attitude and an automatic dislike for the felinoid.

"This gentlemen here is named Toad," Magneto casually introduced him as they took seats around the table.

"He has been with the brotherhood ever since the beginning, and I've come to think of him as a son."

"Brotherhood?" the felinoid asked curiously.

"Yes, we are all brothers aren't we? We mutants that is. We must stick together like family if our kind is to survive," Magneto explained as the man he spoke to slowly nodded his head in agreement.

"So tell me, what's your name?" the elderly man asked him.

He really didn't mean to look stupid, it wasn't like he didn't know his name, it just didn't 'feel' like his name; like it had no meaning to him at all. He sighed in surrender, "Vic...Victor Creed."

Suddenly Magneto's face turned sour, even disgusted. "NO! That is NOT your name!"

Suddenly, the felinoid felt a great sense of relief and even a sense of joy! The old man really _got_ what he was feeling inside. His ears and countenance perked up as he listened to this brilliant genius.

"That is a name _they_ gave you, -those humans. But that's not who you are, now is it?"

His eyes brightened and he felt himself straightening up in his seat.

Once again Magneto asked him, "So...? What is your name?"

He turned his head to get a close look at himself in the mirror and he studied his features. He was fierce, he was proud, and he was a wild animal. As he opened his mouth to speak, he caught sight of his enormously long and large fangs. He was proud of them, they said who he was. He turned back and looked at Magneto with cold but prideful eyes.

"I'm, Sabretooth."

--THE END


End file.
